


Of Spies and Ties

by actualtaracole (freaking_intelligent_fangirl)



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Light Angst, M/M, Washington Nationals, au - no baseball player that i used to love supports fascists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22171411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freaking_intelligent_fangirl/pseuds/actualtaracole
Summary: "PLANE CARRYING MAINE CONGRESSMAN CRASHED. NO CONFIRMED SURVIVORS."“The plane had been chartered by Congressman Hendrick’s to take him back to his district in Maine, where he was up for re-election. It seemed to have suffered critical engine failure and crashed outside of the White Mountain National Forest. It was carrying Congressman Hendricks, his assistant, and his security personnel. All bodies on the flight manifest have been accounted for and there were no survivors. The Congressman is survived by his wife and son.”
Relationships: Anthony Rendon/Trea Turner
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6
Collections: MLB Exchange 2019





	Of Spies and Ties

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarcasm_and_sabres](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasm_and_sabres/gifts).

> So this is entirely a work of fiction etc etc blah blah blah. Please don't read this if you're in it; unless you're into it I guess. And if you are into reading fanfiction about yourself or your coworkers that means you know Anthony Rendon. So please tell him that the hot new trend for 2020 is having morals and some god damn human empathy, regardless of how much money you make. Asshole.
> 
> One day in the future this will be a part of an extended universe. Today is not that day though, so enjoy this as a standalone!
> 
> This had no beta and was only given a cursory spell-check. If I missed anything pls lemme know.

“Hey!” Davey said, knocking on his open office door to get the attention of everyone. 

“What’s up Skip?” Trea asked, leaning back in his seat and shoving the short term mission review he was editing to the side. The rest of the office looked up from whatever they were doing.

“I’ve got new assignments. Rundown and distribution in ten minutes in conference room M, ten minutes.”

Adam popped up from the other side of the cubicle.

“Whadda ya think they’re gonna be?”

“The assignments?” Trea asked.

“No the desserts they serve for lunch today. Yes! The assignments.”

“I don’t know,” said Joe from the desk to Trea and Adam’s left. “But I hope one of them is interesting.”

“Interesting? Wasn’t your last assignment protecting a Congressman?” Trea asked. Adam scoffed.

“Yeah, some boring old fuck from Iowa,” Joe said.

“Congressional detail is the woooooooooorst,” Adam said, spinning in his chair. “All the action movies lied to you. They don’t do anything except dodge their constituents during the day and drink with their buddies at night.”

“At least you’ve been on long term assignments,” Trea said, trying and failing to keep the petulant note out of his voice.

“Hey now,” Adam said. “Short term assignments are just as important.”

“Yeah,” Joe nodded. “Besides, you can’t do long terms without short terms. You’ll get your shot soon.”

“Don’t you need trainer approval? Maybe Tony doesn’t think I’m ready,” Trea said. Joe and Adam looked at each other. Adam opened his mouth to say something before Max strode into the room.

“I could hear you three yapping from the next room over. Get back to work,” he said, glaring at them with mismatched eyes.

“Oh please, a bomb could fall and you wouldn’t notice as long as you’re in the same room as-”

“Would ya look at the time!” Trea said, jumping up and interrupting Adam. “We are gonna miss assignments if we don’t hustle. C’mon guys, let’s go.” Max shook his head at the three younger agents as Trea and Joe pushed Adam out of the room.

“You can’t just joke about Max and Ovechkin like that Adam. Jesus man what happened to your sense of self-preservation?” Trea whispered. 

“For bunch of spies,” said Ovi, walking over to stand behind Max. “They are very unobservant.” Max just chuckled.

“I know Sasha.”

“You must do better job training.” Max whacked him with the file he had in his hand.

On the other side of the building, Adam made a beeline for the empty seat next to Howie and immediately started chattering. Howie gave him the sort of fond grin that Trea saw on Ovechkin’s face whenever Max was talking. Joe sat with Yan and Jake, jumping into the fantasy football conversation with ease. Trea stood in the back, his eyes scanning the room for Tony. He saw him, in a corner trying his hardest to be anti-social despite Juan and Victor sitting on either side of him talking animatedly in Spanish. He saw Trea and his face split into a slow, easy smile that unleashed several dozen butterflies in Trea’s stomach. He said something to Juan and Victor, Trea needed to brush up on his Spanish and made his way over to where Trea was standing. Juan caught his eye and gave him an exaggerated wink but Tony was next to him before Trea could do more than glare. Juan laughed.

“Hey,” he said, elbowing Trea in the ribs. “Who’re we glarin’ at?” Trea turned to face him.

“Juan. He thinks he’s funny.” Tony chuckled, the low sound sending a shiver down Trea’s spine.

“Wonder where he coulda got that idea,” he said. Trea opened his mouth to say something back but was interrupted by Davey walking in, Max and Ovechkin trailing a few steps behind him. Davey started talking, the usual rundown of the last assignments, commending everyone for doing something well, but Trea had stopped paying attention. Mikey, Andrew, and Huddy had all slunk in the back before Davey started talking, and jostled everyone enough that Trea was pressed up against Tony. He had his suit jacket off and his sleeves rolled up, and he was very warm. Trea used to joke that Tony was his space heater when they were on winter stakeouts together. He had said it in front of Howie once, in the middle of a story, and had gotten a very polite talking to when the story ended. He never mentioned it to Tony.

“Turner,” said Davey. Trea snapped to attention, desperately hoping that he hadn’t missed anything. “You’re assigned to Congressional detail. You’re to report to Congressman Hendrick’s office first thing tomorrow morning. The briefing is in the folder with your name on it.”

“Yes sir,” Trea said, the butterflies in his stomach back in full force. Davey nodded at him, a smile on his face, and moved on. Adam turned around and gave him a thumbs up.

“Congrats,” Tony said. “You earned it.”

Trea grabbed his briefing from the stack on the conference table and made his way back to his desk, Adam and Joe right behind him.

“You did it, dude! I knew you would,” Joe said, clapping Trea on the shoulder.

“Yeah man, it’s gonna be awesome!” Adam said. Trea looked at him.

“Weren’t you just talking about how much Congressional protection sucks?”

“Okay yeah,” he said while Joe laughed. “But! For your first long term solo, Congressional protection is a good one! Besides, you know the brass has to start you off easy. You’ll blow through this without a problem and then you can get your hands on the real good stuff.”

“Tell us what you got,” Joe said, pulling his chair over to sit next to Trea at his desk. Adam did the same. Trea rolled his eyes but obliged.

“Looks like he’s up for reelection,” Trea said as he scanned the brief. “I’m gonna be the head of his security staff while he travels back to his district in Maine to campaign and coordinate with the local police while he’s there. Looks like I’ll be gone for two weeks.”

“Nice!”

“For real dude. Congrats, you earned it.”

“Thanks, guys.”

“Can’t wait to hear all about it when you get back.”

Several hours later, after Joe, Adam, and everyone else had left for the night, Trea sat at his desk finishing the mission review he had started that morning. 

“What’re you still doin’ here man?” came Tony’s voice. Trea looked up sheepishly.

“I forgot to finish some paperwork,” he said. Tony laughed and rolled his eyes.

“Paperwork’s still gonna be here when you get back.” Trea opened his mouth to protest but Tony stopped him. “I respect the dedication,” he said. “You’ve always been different like that.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Trea said, a warm feeling in his stomach. “That means a lot.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re still here. I got you somethin’.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a cardboard box.

“Love the wrapping job on this,” Trea said as he took it.

“Just open it.” When he did, he found a navy blue tie, decorated with what looked like white polka dots. Except when Trea looked closer, unfurling it and running it through his fingers he said

“Are those… baseballs?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. Trea looked up at him, shocked. It looked like he was… blushing? “You had that story about wanting to play pro ball growing up but not being able to afford it. Figured you’d appreciate it.”

“Tony I told you that when you interviewed me as a trainee.” He had been embarrassed beyond belief when he had blurted it out at that interview, convinced that no one would want to take on a trainee who was only doing this as a second choice. He never mentioned it again. Tony just shrugged.

“I saw you play at that office game a while back. Reminded me of what you said.” He was definitely blushing. He cleared his throat. “And we’re spies man, we get paid to remember details like that.” He clapped Trea on the shoulder. “Good luck tomorrow. Can’t wait to hear all about it when you get back.” He turned and walked away. “And go home!” he called over his shoulder.

Trea stared at the tie in his hands. It was silk, nicer than any other tie that Trea had ever owned. The baseballs had been embroidered instead of stamped or silk-screened, and it matched his favorite blue suit. The suit that he had worn on his trainee graduation day, the suit that Tony told him he liked, the suit he was going to wear tomorrow. He scoffed and shook his head.

“Unbelievable,” he said, putting the tie back in its box. Tony was right, his paperwork wasn’t going anywhere, and he had a two-week trip to pack for. He stood up, wincing at the crack in his back, organized his desk into some semblance of order, turned his light off, and left.

“Good morning, Congressman Hendricks,” he said, shaking the man’s hand. “I’m Agent Turner of the MHB. I’ve been assigned as your head of security for this trip.”

“Good morning young man. It’s nice to meet you, thank you for showing up early.”

“Of course sir.”

“I suppose I should introduce everyone before we get on the road? That’s Lana, David, and George. Lana is my assistant. David and George are my security detail. Now let’s get going. It’s only a couple of miles but I am not interested in playing games with the traffic to DCA.” They hustled out of the room after the Congressman, David, and George in front and Trea behind Lana and the Congressman as they went over the final details of his schedule.

The flight from DCA to Maine’s Bangor International Airport was a little under two hours long and they were starting their descent when things went wrong. The plane shuddered, and intercom came on.

“Just some unexpected turbulence there folks. Keep your seatbelts fastened and we shouldn’t have any problems.”

Several things happened in very quick succession after that. There was an audible BANG from outside as the plane tipped violently to one side. Trea could see smoke coming from somewhere outside the plane. 

“Congressman it’s gonna be okay,” he said. Then everything went black.

“We interrupt this broadcast for some breaking news,” Tony heard from the TV in the break room. He got up to close his office door but stopped when he saw everyone in the office huddled in front of the TV.

“Don’t y’all have work to do?” he asked. Max turned to look at him, his face drawn and gray. “What?”

“Why don’t we go back to your office and talk?” Max said. Tony scoffed at him. He walked the few paces to the break room and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the news scroll.

PLANE CARRYING MAINE CONGRESSMAN CRASHED. NO CONFIRMED SURVIVORS.

“Turn it up,” he said, his voice even.

“Tony-”

“Do it!”

“The plane had been chartered by Congressman Hendrick’s to take him back to his district in Maine, where he was up for re-election. It seemed to have suffered critical engine failure and crashed outside of the White Mountain National Forest. It was carrying Congressman Hendricks, his assistant, and his security personnel. All bodies on the flight manifest have been accounted for and there were no survivors. The Congressman is survived by his wife and son.”

Tony was very aware that everyone had turned around to stare at him. It looked like Max was talking, but he couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears.

“Turn that off and get back to work,” was all he said. He turned on his heel and strode back into his office. The door slammed behind him. He leaned against the door and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He could not cry at work. He took several deep breaths and checked the time. Three o’clock. He had to make it through two more hours before he could mourn in the safety and comfort of his apartment with the bottle of bourbon that Trea had gotten him for his birthday last year. A knock came at his door and he turned to open it. Max was on the other side, Ovechkin silent behind him.

“Do you want Davey to call his parents?”

“No. I’ll… I’ll do it.” Max nodded and turned to leave. Ovechkin stared at him for a long moment before he swept him into a brief, bone-crushing hug. He let him go and walked away, closing the door behind him. Tony collapsed into his desk chair and, very quietly, started to cry. Tomorrow. He would call Trea’s parents tomorrow.

Trea woke up, alone, and tied to a chair in an almost empty cabin. He took quick stock of his injuries. His shoulders ached from his hands being tied behind his back, but the binding was loose enough that he hadn’t lost feeling in his hands. He couldn’t see out of his right eye, his head pounded, his mouth was drier than the desert, and he knew he had at least cracked a rib from how much it hurt to breathe. He could see the tie Tony had given him tied around a wound in his left thigh. He had survived the plane crash, likely because whoever caused it wanted information from him. There was plenty of sunlight coming through the one window he could see, and he spent a moment entertaining the idea that he had only been out for a few hours.

The multi-screen computer set up in the opposite corner of the cabin lit up, and less than a minute later the only door opened. A man that Trea had never seen walked through, carrying a bag full of groceries. That was good. That meant that there was a car nearby and a town close enough to drive to. He saw Trea and lit up.

“Oh! You’re alive! Thank god I was beginning to worry that I had dragged a corpse through the woods.” He put the groceries down and walked over to where Trea was tied up.

“Who are you? Where am I?” The man rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on. I thought you MHB assholes were supposed to be better than that. You know I’m not going to tell you. Now it’s nice to know that you’re alive and that I didn’t put all that effort into crashing a plane for nothing, but I don’t need you awake yet.” He unclipped the gun from his holster and smacked Trea with the butt of it. For the second time in as many days, Trea’s world went black.

Two days after the plane crash, Tony was back at work, to everyone’s surprise.

“Skip,” he said, walking into Davey’s office. “I need the manifest for that flight.”

“No, what you need is to call Trea’s parents and tell them what happened, or delegate the task to someone else,” he said, staring at Tony.

“I promise I will call his parents after I see that flight manifest.” Tony held his boss’s gaze, and Davey sighed.

“Fine,” he acquiesced. He went through his files on his computer and turned his monitor to show Tony the document when he pulled it up. “Here. Are you happy now?” Tony scanned the file and almost whooped when he came across the passenger list.

“Skip,” Tony said, excitement fizzing in his stomach. “I need you to look at that passenger list again.” Davey gave him the side-eye.

“Tony, you sure you’re okay? I know grief hits everyone different but-”

“Davey,” Tony cut him off and tapped the monitor. “Just _look_.” He did. Tony saw the exact moment it registered.

“He’s not on the manifest,” Davey said, shocked. He leaned back in his chair.

“He’s not on the manifest!” Tony crowed.

“But he-”

“Was on the original manifest. I know,” Tony brandished the paper copy he had taken from Trea’s briefing file.

“So if he was on the original manifest. But not on this one. That means someone changed it to make sure his death wouldn’t be public knowledge like everyone else’s.”

“And if his death wasn’t meant to be public knowledge then that means-”

“That means he could still be alive,” Davey finished. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Go get Max, Ovechkin, Stras, Howie, and Sanchi. We gotta brief all the vets before we bring in any of the new kids.”

“Yes, sir!” Tony snapped a salute. Davey rolled his eyes. “Oh wait,” Tony said, in the doorway of Davey’s office. “Before I get the guys, you still want me to call Trea’s parents?” Davey balled up the nearest piece of paper on his desk and threw it at Tony, who ducked and laughed all the way out of the office.

Later that night Tony piled into an MHB stealth chopper with Ovechkin, Juan, Howie, and Adam.

“Be careful,” Davey said from outside. “The different manifests, plus a cabin in the middle of a national forest in New Hampshire using up as much bandwidth as our smells worse than Max after an office hockey game.” Everyone laughed.

“We’ll be careful Skip,” Howie said from the pilot’s seat. Ovechkin nodded.

“No one die tonight,” he said. Davey looked at them again before he hit the outside of the chopper.

“I’ll see you all in the morning. With Trea.”

“Alright,” Adam said from the passenger seat as Howie started the takeoff sequence. “Who’s ready to get Tony’s man back?” Everyone laughed.

“We’re gonna land in a clearing about a mile from the cabin. Should take us an hour and some change to get there,” Howie said over the hum of the engine and chopper blades.

“We’re comin’ Trea,” Tony whispered as they went airborne. “I’m comin’.”

Trea had to pee. He didn’t think he’d ever had to pee this bad in his life. His kidnapper, or was he his captor? Had left in the morning and it was now the kind of all-encompassing dark that came with the middle of the night in the woods. Trea hadn’t had much to eat or drink the entire time he had been tied to this godforsaken chair in this godforsaken cabin, but he still had to pee like crazy. An undetermined amount of time passed, it could have been five minutes or two hours, it was hard to keep track before the computer monitors turned on and the processors booted up.

“Thank fuck,” Trea said. The Douchebag walked through the front door. “Hey man, I really have to pee.”

“Oh yeah. I guess you would have to.” He crossed the floor to wear Trea was and looked at him like he was sizing him up. He punched him in the ribs. Trea doubled over, as much as he could with his hands still tied to the chair behind him, and coughed. That was followed by a swift uppercut to his jaw that left him seeing stars. He dug his thumb into the wound in Trea’s thigh for good measure. Trea ground his teeth together to stop the wave of nausea that overtook him.

“What the fuck was that for,” he panted. Douchebag walked around to untie his hands.

“Well if I’m going to let you outside to pee I gotta make sure you aren’t strong enough to go anywhere. Not because there’s anywhere to go to, but because it would be annoying as hell to have to track you down in the dark. There’s a latrine and some soap and water just a couple steps outside. Don’t trip.”

“Thanks,” Trea said.

“Don’t mention it.” Trea hobbled to the latrine, his legs protesting at being used after sitting for so long. Douchebag was waiting for him when he got back and grabbed his arm when he walked through the door back into the cabin. He pushed him back into his chair and tied his hands together behind his back again. Douchebag sat down at his terminal and went back to doing whatever he did. Trea’s stomach growled. They both ignored it.

“So I’m assuming you didn’t bring down a plane to kill a middling fifth term Congressman,” Trea said.

“You would assume correctly then,” Douchebag said, not looking away from his monitors.

“So then why’d you do it?” Trea asked. Douchebag ignored him. “Oh c’mon. You and I both know I’m not getting out of here alive. My whole office thinks I’m dead. What’s the harm in making small talk? Or would that interrupt a World of Warcraft raid?” 

Douchebag rolled his eyes and didn’t say anything for a while. Trea dozed, lulled by the sound of typing, but never able to let his guard down enough to actually sleep. Douchebag cleared his throat and stood up, cracking his knuckles. Trea jolted into wakefulness. He pulled up a chair so he was sitting in front of Trea, who eyed him warily. He spread his arms wide.

“What do you want to know?” he asked.

“Who are you? Who do you work for?” he asked, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach. He was going to die, and soon. But that wasn’t going to stop him from getting his answers. Douchebag rolled his eyes.

“Do all you MHB pricks get your cues from bad spy movies? I was expecting better from this.” He sighed. “My name is Ryan Braun. I don’t work for anyone.”

“You’re lying.” Braun shrugged.

“Maybe. But that’s not a question.”

“You already said you weren’t targeting the Congressman. Since I’m the one that’s tied up and not his assistant or his two other security personnel that means I was the target. But there were other ways to get to me, easier ways. Why did you take down his plane? Why kill him?”

“You’re right about one thing and wrong about the other. Yes obviously, the Congressman wasn’t the target. But you aren’t the target either. You’re just the first rung on the ladder.” Trea’s blood went cold.

“Then why me? Who are you after? And what changed?”

“I’m after your whole rotten organization. You were the easiest to go after because everyone seems to _like_ you so much. Especially that trainer of yours. What’s his name? He’s got that Texas twang… those fantastic curls, although I’m not sure how he keeps them so tame in the humid DC summers. And let’s not forget about his arms.” Trea bucked against the chair, the bindings around his wrists digging into his skin.

“Don’t touch Tony,” he snarled. Braun laughed.

“Tony! That’s his name. Thank you for reminding me.” He stood back up and checked his screens. “As for what’s changed. Well… the cavalry is incoming, and I hate to be late to a party.” He walked back outside and around the cabin and came back with two duffel bags full of guns and ammo. “You would not believe how easy it was to get my hands on all this stuff. I mean honestly, it’s harder to buy cold medicine in bulk!” he said as he loaded his guns and strapped on his protective gear.

“Now I’m not sure who’s coming to your rescue, but I’d bet my bottom dollar that your Tony is with them. Maybe I’ll get lucky and have a couple other high ranking officers here to rescue your green ass, but I doubt it. You all never did put much stock into rescue operations anyway.”

“How did they know where to find me?”

“Easy. I told them. I didn’t quite put up a neon billboard with your coordinates outside of their office in DC, but I came pretty close. Now,” he said. “I think it’s a little dark.” He flipped a switch on the wall and floodlights that Trea didn’t know were there flipped on. The cabin was in the middle of a clear patch of forest, no tree cover for at least a hundred paces on any side, and no darkness to hide in either. Only one door meant a bottleneck where Braun could shoot whoever came through while minimizing the danger to himself. His friends were gonna die, and whoever didn’t would be tortured for information for as long as Braun felt like it. Trea didn’t think he’d hated anyone as much as he hated Ryan fucking Braun.

“I think I’ll keep you alive long enough to hear me hurt your friends, and then kill you to get them to cooperate,” Braun said, his eyes still trained on the door and the window. “Huh. They’re slower than I thought they would be.” Just then Trea heard the quiet hum of one of the MHB’s stealth helicopters above him. Braun must have heard it too because he laughed and pointed the guns at the roof. “Clever,” he said. “But not clever enough!” He fired at the roof, riddling it full of bullet holes.

Trea saw movement out of the corner of his eye and saw someone standing in the middle of the clearing. He knew what was coming the second before it did. The agent threw something, the window shattered, and a flash-bang grenade rolled to a stop a foot away from Braun. Trea looked at Braun and then looked back out the window and saw Juan, his mask off, waving. He laughed and closed his eyes. The grenade went off.

Despite his closed eyes, the flash of light from the grenade had him seeing stars. He couldn’t hear anything besides a high pitched ringing, but he opened his eyes and saw that someone had kicked in the door. Ovechkin had Braun pinned to the wall by his throat, and Adam was at his computer terminal stripping the hard drives. Howie was still in the pilot’s seat in the helicopter, which had landed in front of the cabin. The ringing in his ears had subsided enough that Trea could hear them talking, but they sounded very far away. He heard the sharp retort of a gun being fired at close range and turned his head to see Tony holstering his gun, staring at Braun’s corpse like he was something he had scraped off his shoe.

He turned and saw Trea and his expression immediately softened. He rushed over and knelt behind him. He undid the bindings around his wrists and massaged the feeling back into them before coming around to face him. He put one hand on Trea’s shoulder and brought the other up to cup his face. He saw Tony’s lips move, but couldn’t tell what he said. Instead of trying to answer, Trea just nodded and let the rapidly approaching darkness take him.

He woke up later, to the distinct beep of an ECG and the particular antiseptic smell of Sibley Memorial Hospital. He couldn’t feel anything in particular, which meant they had him on the good stuff. He turned his head and saw Tony asleep in the chair next to his bed. He hadn’t taken off his tac gear.

“That can’t be very comfortable,” he said, and Tony startled awake. He stared at Trea and smiled like the sun coming through the clouds.

“You’re awake,” he said. 

“How long was I out?”

“Almost a day.”

“That bad huh?”

“You got beat up pretty bad when the plane crashed. Three days of no medical care and little to no food and water didn’t help.”

“Thanks for coming to get me.” A serious expression came over Tony’s face and he stood up and grabbed Trea’s hand.

“I’m always gonna come and get you,” he said. Trea looked at him.

“I love you too,” he said and squeezed Tony’s hand. Tony laughed. “Sorry I ruined the tie you gave me though,” he said. He could feel the drugs as they started to pull him back under.

“It’s alright,” Tony said. “I can replace a tie. Can’t replace you.” He ran his hand through Trea’s hair. He hummed and let his eyes slip closed again.

“Damn right.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up again.”

“I know. You gotta shower first though,” he mumbled. Tony laughed again, and the sound made Trea smile.

“As you wish,” he said. He pressed a kiss to Trea’s forehead. He kept a hold of Trea’s hand and his other kept running through Trea’s hair. He hummed a song Trea didn’t know and he let the sound lull him back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure I got Ovi's speech patterns horrendously wrong. Sorry about that!


End file.
